In Memory's Honor
by lil' Miss B
Summary: Three years of aftermath and now Seifer has one chance to make it right again. Takes place after game. Seifercentric. Slight Seiftis
1. Prologue

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_FF8does not belong to me and I make no profit from any of these tales. Any further archiving of my fiction is strictly prohibited unless cleared by me._

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Prologue

* * *

Seifer entered his dark lonely hotel room, worn and weary from the day. It had been a busy one. He had spent the better part of it chasing down one of his marks, finally catching him on his way straight out of town and collecting the money he owed. Returning it to Volney, his sometimes employer, he spent the rest of the day at the local bar, frequented mostly by others like him. All fugitives in some shape or form, all working in some way for the largest mob in Dollet, and all looking to get drunk or laid, preferably both. 

Walking to the small bed and sitting down, he moved to take off his jacket, the movement jarring his already sore rib cage. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and eased out the pain. One of the debts that Volney had sent him to collect on a couple days ago had gotten in a lucky hit with a lead pipe and had broken at least two ribs. Of course, that was nothing compared to what Seifer had done to him in retaliation.

He was used to the pain though. Living life like he did, on whims and impulses, you learned to take the inevitable pain that came with the rush of excitement that followed a good fight or narrow escape. He was excellent at both. He had to be. Every government agency in the world wanted a piece of him and sometimes he only just escaped with all his pieces in tact.

They could all just bring it on. He'd kill as many as he had to. He wasn't going to let them catch him so he could be put down like an animal. No, he wouldn't succumb to such an ignoble death.

The moonlight coming in from the open window glinted off the object in the far corner of the room. Hyperion. Pretty much his only friend left. It was dull and needed polishing badly, but somehow, Seifer couldn't bring himself to care as much as he used to. The sword had served him well, but nowadays, he was reluctant to pick it up and even more reluctant to let it go.

It had been that way ever since…

Seifer laid back, legs dangling off the edge. One more thing he was reluctant to talk or think about. He tried to keep himself busy, preoccupying his mind with thoughts of his next job, next escape, or next drink. But even that didn't work at night, when he found himself alone, and in the dark, like so many other times before.

His memories of the time he spent by Ultimecia's side were hazy, blocked out willingly by his sub-conscious. He did remember the dark, though.

The first time was right after he met the sorceress. She had whisked him away to Deiling City and he woke up in a dark room of the basement of a large mansion. His arms and legs bound to the bed.

He could feel her there, standing silently in the corner. She spoke, her voice dark and rich as black velvet, telling him of her plans, what he would become, what they would accomplish.

Foolishly, he now knows, he had listened. Taking it all in, and thinking that it sounded like a good idea. What good could come from an organization that trained children to kill for money? They certainly had never done him any favors. Of course, that was before he had known about time compression.

Then she had given him power. He still vividly remembered the sight of it, manifesting and slowly crawling toward him, reaching out for his throat. Despite the darkness of the room, it had stood out, a shiny, inky blackness against a blacker curtain. It moved like water, no… mercury, its motions fluid, yet held together, suspended in the air, circling above him before diving down into his nose and mouth, filling him more completely than ever before.

And he had screamed, back arched and fists clenched, for days and days until his throat was raw and his ankles and wrists bled. He screamed until he couldn't remember if it was from the pleasure or the pain. It moved through him, the darkness. Ripping him apart at the seams and stitching him back together. The ecstasy of the power he felt, the buzzing in his head as he felt himself being lifted to a higher state of being, was like nothing he had ever experienced before, or would ever again.

Then he had passed out.

The second time...He remembered fighting the SeeDs in Lunatic Pandora, and losing. He had collapsed in a corner, body and pride ripped to shreds.

Then it came. Time compression.

Darkness took him in its grasp and he found himself suspended in it, surrounded by it. Not really standing or sitting, just there, unable to move.

And he didn't care enough to try.

He had felt her die, a distinct snapping that forced his body to convulse. He had screamed again, worse than before. Screamed so hard that he cried for the first time in his life that he could remember. His nails dug into his palms so hard, leaving small crescent shaped cuts. The power leaving him, ripping out what felt like his soul and taking a part of him with it until he was no more than a shell of his former self.

But at the same time he was set free.

The freedom did him little good though, floating, wounded, alone and dying in time compression. He stayed a week, as far as he could tell, washing up on the shores of Balamb. Spit back into the world, reborn but less than he had been before.

Raijin and Fujin had found him there, half-dead, cold, hungry, and barely able to stand. They hid him in a small shack in the nearby forest, nursing him back to health on sympathetic looks and fishing trips. The first chance he got he hopped a train to F.H. and hadn't looked back since.

Now, six months later, he had seen more of the world than many got to see in their entire lives. Running from town to town with the government bloodhounds on his back wasn't exactly his idea of backpacking around the world, but still, he had stayed in every cheap hotel, drank in every seedy bar, and passed out on every dirty alleyway the world had to offer. It was comforting to know that there were other people in the world with as much to hide from as him.

He had seen more of the bad side of people in these grubby extended stay hotels, than he'd seen during the entire war. Really, and people said he was evil. At least he never paid fifteen year old boys to come over and do…whatever they did; he didn't want to think of it. And he never beat or raped a woman into submission.

'_Yeah, but you did try to sacrifice your ex-girlfriend to an evil sorceress,'_ his conscious poked. He just ignored it. These activities were the heart and soul of most of the places he stayed in; activity that seemed to be missing at this very moment.

Moving from his prostrate position on the bed, instincts on high alert, Seifer walked to the wall and listened. No sounds of the arguing or fighting that he had gotten used to the past two weeks. It was quiet. Way too quiet for this time of night.

* * *

The man walked silently across the cheap burber carpet of the hotel, mindful to keep silent. In his earpiece, he heard the sound of the other teams checking other floors; the first four were clear, which only left the one he and the two other men were on. He was excited; his first big bust would be Seifer Almasy, war criminal and sorceress knight. They'd all be heroes and bring honor to Dollet. He had to struggle to remind himself that while victory seemed inevitable for them, Almasy excelled in such a condition. 

In the months since the end of the war, Almasy had injured or killed dozens of agents making one of his, now infamous, escapes. What he didn't know, however, was that they had a secret weapon.

His superior, while new to the Dollet Intelligence Agency, seemed to know what she was doing. After all, she had been a SeeD and possessed intimate knowledge of the fugitive. He made a note to congratulate her once this was all over, and maybe even ask her out; if she said yes, he'd win the pool.

Looking at the team leader, he nodded his readiness as they prepared to enter the next room. On faulty data, they had released the anesthetic gas in the hotel before Almasy had entered, leaving the tenants unconscious. It was no matter though, less noise to alert him as they moved through the rooms.

The team leader grabbed the handle, punched in the override code, and motioned them to be ready to cover him. He moved to take his position on the left and the leader opened the door. They filed in, guns at the ready, and found the dark room empty, a tan coat lying on the small bed and an open window with curtains swaying in the breeze. A Gunblade was propped against the wall, "He was here," his team mate went to check the bathroom as he moved to the window.

Noise from below alerted him and he looked out the window. He saw movement and yelled out for all to hear, "He's on the fire escape!"

"I'm on it," a female voice called over the earpiece.

* * *

He moved as silently and as quickly as he could down the rusty ladders and landings that made up the fire escape. He was wheezing with the effort it took to pull down the old ladders and the pain that emanated from his ribs. 

A voice hollered out his position from above and he gave up being quiet. Blood was pumping in his ears and the pain became distant, allowing him to continue viciously ripping down the ladders.

As he made it to the last landing, he gave up on the ladder and jumped. The landing pulsated from the soles of his shoes and caused his legs to quiver and stomach to ache. There was no time to fully get his bearings since DIA agents were making their way down the fire escape after him and he could hear more shouts coming from the street in front of the hotel.

He ran towards the back alley, boots pounding against the pavement and legs carrying him as fast as they could. Lucky for him, Dollet was famous for its vast infrastructure of back alleyways and he planned to take full advantage of that fact.

* * *

_A few minutes earlier._

Random beeps and muffled radio transmissions filled the interior of the black control van parked out front of the hotel. Quistis Trepe signed, they weren't at all inconspicuous. Two large black vans parked on the curb across the street from a hotel were bound to draw attention. Luckily it was night, a time when people were more apt to mind their own business.

Another team reported in, the third floor was clear. Selphie, sitting in front of her in the back, eyes on a map of the hotel on the monitor showing their positions, answered them. "Copy that Squad 3, proceed as planned," The gargantuan headphones on her ears made her no less cute.

Quistis watched the blue dots on the monitor spread out, the three team members taking up their positions near both exits and the elevator, just like she had taught them. She smiled, two months and look how much she had contributed.

When she first got to Dollet, her new job being the reorganization of their intelligence, they were barely able to dismantle a car bomb, now they were on the brink of catching their first major international threat. Before, the small nation located on the northern peninsula of the Galbadian Continent had relied on Galbadia to take care of them. It was a shaky friendship at best, one that was abruptly cut when they invaded last year.

They were now looking to strike out on their own, and they felt that she was the one to help them do it. How could she refuse? Garden wasn't going to give her license back, and at least this way she was still teaching, just not in a classroom. Selphie had insisted that she come along too, and they had found a nice little house to rent in one of the nicer neighborhoods. It was fun. Selphie kept life interesting. Zell stopped by once in a while, when he wasn't on a mission for Garden. Irvine was over a lot, being Selphie's on-again, off-again boyfriend.

She checked her watch, they should be going faster. Despite her confidence in her squads, she was still worried. The same old butterflies had gathered in her stomach. It was like watching her cadets take the SeeD test all over again. She was just worried that one would get overzealous. This was a big mission, one she felt she had to take care of herself. It had taken a lot of persuading to get her to stay in the van when she really wanted to be up in one of those floors. This couldn't go wrong, she wouldn't allow it. Catching Seifer, alive and unharmed was one of the most important things she felt she was ever going to do.

After unjunctioning all her GFs, she had experienced the most wonderful flood of memories. They came quickly enough, in her sleep and even sometimes when she was awake. Beautiful visions of her mother, so graceful and kind, a wise father, and of course, her time at the orphanage. Playing house with Selphie and Ellone, dress up with Matron, and of course racing their bikes along the road in front of the lighthouse. All these memories helped her sort out her feelings on the whole Seifer matter, explaining why it was so important to her to save the man that used to kick soccer balls at her face as a child.

She had briefed her entire team thoroughly, warning of severe punishment for use of unnecessary deadly force. Knowing Seifer, he wouldn't give up easily. That was why it was so important that it be her to oversee his capture. Wouldn't want him catching a bullet with his head or falling down a flight of stairs 'resisting' arrest.

"Floor four clear, proceeding to back up positions."

"Affirmative Squad 4, go ahead," Selphie replied.

Quistis sighed, only one more floor. Turning from Selphie's station to the camera surveillance area behind her, she checked the street.

A total of 35 agents were present, herself not included. Four stationed in each van, teams of three on each floor, the roof, the basement, the front, and the rear. Imagine her bewilderment when she saw six agents loitering out front.

Lifting a hand to the ear of her smaller headset and pushing the button that allowed her to be heard, "Garris, what is your position?"

She observed the man in question in the monitor as he turned toward the van to answer, "We're holding position at the front of the hotel," he responded confidently.

"What was your original position?"

"The rear of the hotel."

"Why did you abandon your post?" Her tone was stern, called back from her days as an instructor and practiced on many an unruly student. One in particular heard it numerous times.

Garris looked helplessly to his comrades, "Well…Its pretty much like a big maze back there, mostly made up of dead ends. No one in there right mind would try to escape back there, so we thought we'd be more helpful here." He finished, almost sounding confident with his reasoning.

'_No one in their right mind…that fit Seifer to a tee.'_

Quistis rubbed her eyes tiredly. So much for her well oiled machine. She reminded herself that every mission had unforeseen complications. This was one of them. "I specifically told you to cover the back," She said slowly, "It doesn't matter where those alleys lead, it's the first place he'll-"

"He's on the fire escape!" She recognized the voice of one of the men in squad five.

"I'm on it," _'Damn, I hate being right,'_ she thought just before she ripped off the headset. Bursting through the double doors in the back, she ran as fast as she could towards the back.

Fishing in her blazer pockets as she ran, she located the small portable receiver and put it in her ear, at least she'd be able to hear.

Immediately, Selphie's voice filled her head, shouting out orders like a pro, "Front team hold your position. Roof team, readjust and Squads four and five head up to the roof and provide support. Watch your scopes and hold your fire, Agent Trepe is in the field. Squad three head down and support Quistis and Squads one, two, and basement team, head to-"

Quistis partially tuned out the rest. Selphie was directing the remaining squads to various locations around the block; soon they'd have it surrounded. She pushed herself faster around the large building, once again thanking Hyne Selphie had decided to come.

Making a left and rounding the corner to the back, she caught sight of a shadow ducking down an alley to the right. Several DIA agents were climbing down the last set of stairs on the fire escape.

"Spread out," she yelled, not breaking her stride, "I'm going right."

'_This place truly is a labyrinth,'_ she thought, turning right. The alley behind the hotel split three ways, one the way she had come in, one on the left, and one on the right. The one she had gone down, one member of Squad three hot on her trail.

She stopped suddenly as the alley came to a t-shaped intersection.

'_Almasy wouldn't go right again. That would take him too close to the street. He may be arrogant but he's not stupid.'_

The young agent that had bravely decided to follow her stopped short behind her, panting.

"You go right," she commanded, gently pushing him in said direction before she broke left.

She ran hard, feet flying in long strides over pavement, cursing at herself for borrowing Selphie's boots this morning. They were clearly not made for running.

She came to another intersection, this time, a three way split in front of her.

'_If I ever find the person that designed this city, I'm gonna hang him upside down from his toes with Save the Queen and leave him in one of his alleys.'_

Felling her frustration building, she listened for any signs. Teams were updating her in the earpiece. No one had been able to lock onto his position and it'd take hours for their satellites to reposition so they could use the imagery. Damn their last minuteness.

A noise form the left caught her attention and she drew her standard DIA issued 9mm. One of the sacrifices she had made for this job was giving up her weapon. Specialty weapons were mostly a Garden/SeeD thing and as a result, Save the Queen was tucked safely away in the back of her closet along with her old SeeD uniform and pink battle gear.

She quietly jogged down the alley, gun held at the ready position in both hands.

'_Here I come, Almasy."_

* * *

_'Damnit'_ Seifer threw his fist against the dead end. 

He hadn't had the time to properly memorize the entire city and his cleaver plan of sneaking out the back way had quickly gone to shit.

Back tracking to the last intersection he came from, he chose another path. One that would take him as far away from the street as possible.

No luck. A tall brick building blocked him on three sides, all its windows barred. The building also had a fire escape and as much as he didn't look forward to climbing it, he also had to find a way to reach the ladder, and quickly.

The sounds of radio frequencies were getting closer and Seifer hurriedly looked around for something to climb on. There was a large green dumpster in the very back of the alley and he ran up to it, seeing a door that he hadn't noticed before. Trying the handle, he found that it was locked. Feeling trapped, he gave it a few frustrated kicks, not caring how much noise he made.

Grabbing the dumpster by the lip, he began to pull it towards the ladder and freedom. His ribs protested at the effort and the dumpster refused to yield, no matter how hard he tired, it was too heavy. Maybe he could jump.

Walking back to stand under the ladder, he was estimating the distance when he heard a gun being cocked behind him.

"Freeze."

The voice was familiar. The icy feminine tone brought back thousands of memories of a place farther away from his current predicament. Memories of bland classrooms, captivity, and dull lectures, with her controlled, softly accented voice droning over them.

"Is that you Trepe?" From the sound of it she was alone. He was prepared for the typical DIA agent, but not for Trepe. She was smarter and faster than the others he had encountered and he was encumbered by his injuries.

"It's me. Put you hands up." She ordered him, bossy as ever. He complied, turning to face her and putting his hands out in a helpless ruse, inching towards her, ready to make his move, "Don't make me shoot you, Seifer."

Seifer cocked his head, as if considering the situation. She _would_ shoot him, "So what do we do now?"

"Now you turn around and get on your knees, hands behind you head." She continued in that emotionless voice he hated.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He stated simply. No way was this going to happen, she would have to shoot him first.

Striking out with his right, he swatted the gun out of her hand, the metal scratching along the pavement as it skidded to a stop beside the alley wall. A blow from his left to her gut followed close behind. She staggered back a few steps, doubled over, arms wrapping around her middle. Seizing the opportunity, he made a break for the opening of the alley.

He didn't get far. Trepe had recovered quickly and launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, feebly trying to restrain him. He staggered back from the surprise, not really from the weight, and tried to pull her arms off.

Failing miserably, he turned their backs to the wall and threw himself backwards. The sound of her grunts and forced out breath right in his ears.

That didn't work either. Damn her.

She readjusted her grip, one arm going to his neck and applying pressure. Spots formed in his vision, and he stumbled a few steps forward.

Reaching over his right shoulder with both hands, he grabbed her by the back of her black blazer, shifting his weight and bending at the waist; he pulled, and felt her body fly over his shoulder. She landed on her back with a grunt, and again Seifer tried to run past her.

Again he didn't get far, as her legs shot out, scissoring around his and pulling him down. With a curse, he hit the pavement face first. Pain shot up his side as he felt his broken ribs shift and grind against one another.

_'Stupid, fucking, persistent bitch.'_

He had to hurry. The sounds of their battle, the grunts, soft thuds, and loud smacks, would soon draw in more visitors.

Rolling back to the standing position, he caught the sight of Quistis gracefully kicking her self up, landing in a traditional fighter's pose, fists up. She struck out first with her left. Seifer saw her shoulder drop before and dodged back. She always was weak on her left side.

Using the momentum brought on by her missed punch, she spun, pivoting on her left foot and bringing the right up high.

Pain laced through his head as her boot connected, the tall heal breaking the skin at the temple. The force making him bite the inside of his cheek.

A dull roar flooded his ears, rushing through, like being under water.

_'Damn her and her long legs.'_ He fell to the side, on hands and knees. He tried to get up, slowly. Too slowly. Quistis aimed another kick at his mid-section.

Jackpot.

Letting out a garbled cry, the kick pushing him over and onto his back, panting. The pain in his chest and head too much.

He saw Quistis run to the side of the alley and retrieve the gun. He needed to get up, to run, but every muscle in his body cried out when he tried to move.

Gritting his teeth and groaning, as if that would help the pain, he rolled to the side. Any further action was stopped as that move brought him face to barrel with Quistis's gun.

He shifted his gaze up to her face. She was panting; normally cool eyes alive from the rush of adrenaline. Her suit was mussed, black pants now sporting spots of dirt and grim, much the same as his white shirt and jeans. A few strands of hair had fallen from her tight twist, softly framing her angular face. He moved again, holding his side.

Fuck it. He had to try.

She must have seen his intentions because she shook her head softly, lightly whispering, "No."

He moved again, slowly, staring her down. _Daring_ her to do it.

"Seifer, _please_," he paused now on one knee.

It was something about her voice, the pleading tone and slight waver of it had taken him aback. She sounded as if she cared.

"I can help you." She continued in the same tone, showing more emotion right then than he had seen her exhibit in all the years he had known her.

"Believe me Trepe, the last thing I need is your _help_," he spit the last word out, along with a little blood, the syllables rolling off his tongue as if they were dipped in acid.

"Seifer, taking help from someone that's offering isn't weak. It's smart."

"Thanks for the advice." His voice was free of sarcasm. Just the extreme determination of an animal cornered.

"Damnit Seifer, just hear me out. If you come with me, I have the means to make a deal. I'll have you extradited to Balamb, there's no death penalty there. But only if you come willingly, _right now_."

He considered her offer, his pride would never allow him to be put to death by the state, and while he was always ready to die at any moment, he still didn't want to.

"Seifer, please, I don't want to shoot you."

Long seconds ticked by, as head and ego fought for dominance on the cold pavement. Could he trust her; the woman he had enjoyed tormenting even before he was a traitor? As much as Quistis sounded like she didn't want to shoot him, her training wouldn't allow her to hesitate. If he ran, he would most likely be shot, maybe even killed, and there would be no deal. If he got away, how long would it be before he was in the same situation?

"This is a limited time offer, Almasy," Quistis continued to plead. "More people will be here soon and they will not hesitate to kill you if you show even a little resistance."

He was tired of running and his apathy won out, "You'd do all that for me, after everything I put you through?" He asked her suspiciously.

He must have easily given himself away. Seeing the distrust in his eyes, she slowly lowered her weapon, "Yes."

"Why?" That seemed to be the question of the hour.

The blond woman let out a light laugh and shrugged, "I don't know."

'_Well as long as we're both confused…'_

Taking a deep breath, Seifer staggered up, aided by his arms. Quistis watched him warily as he thrust both hands out in front of him, "Alright." His voice was solemn, and his stare was hard. "I trust you, Trepe."

Walking up to him, Quistis gently cuffed his hands together and met his gaze, returning the determined stare with one of her own, "You won't regret it."

* * *

**6 months later – Balamb Supreme Court**

The defendant sat behind the oak desk, dressed in a grey suit and blue tie and waited for the judge to sentence him. He was tired, the last six months had passed by in a headachy blur of 'Seifer Almasy: this is your horrible life.'

The defense knew they had no chance of acquittal and spent most of the time trying to show that he was a product of society, hoping to get a lighter sentence. Consequently, the past six months were spent ripping open every closed memory he ever kept in the dark recesses of his mind and shining a light on it. It was intrusive. Everyone knew of his broken life at home and as an orphan; all his failures at garden where meticulously studied and analyzed by psychologists. He was learning stuff about himself that he wasn't even aware of.

The one thing in all of this that Seifer could not understand, however, was that Quistis had kept her word on everything. It felt strange to him. Trust was not something that he gave out often, but she had demanded it from him and having no other choice, he had given in.

She had also given him hope; hope that one day, he could be free, utterly and completely on his own. No looking over his shoulder and no one telling him what to do. Something he hadn't had in so long that it hurt to let the idea of it back in.

As a result, he had watched the one person that was genuinely on his side get ripped to shreds by the prosecution

He turned around in his seat to find the person in question. She sat a few rows back, distanced greatly from the rest of her co-workers that were also present. A result, no doubt, of her dealings with him over the past few months. She must have felt his eyes on her since she looked up to meet his gaze at that very moment. The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile, one that he had learned was meant to be encouraging, one she had, in the past, only direct at Squall.

They were all there too, somewhere in the back. He had seen them when he walked in, but had paid little attention to them. The only one he had any interest in was Quistis anyway. Funny how things change, who knew that a few well timed conversations were all it took to create a shaky peace between the two? He smiled back at her just as the judge walked in. She broke off her gaze and he watched the corners of her mouth drop back into the stern look she had adapted so well.

"Would the defendant please rise," Judge Moore spoke in the powerful voice he always used.

Doing what he was told, Seifer and his two lawyers waited breathlessly. Seifer's heart beat fast and hard against his chest. The prison itself did not scare him, he could handle himself; it was the idea of being caged. It made him feel claustrophobic. Locked away like an animal, and treated like one, too. If he had to be there for life he didn't know what he'd do. Try to escape, maybe.

"Seifer Almasy, you have been found guilty of…."Seifer had heard this part thousands of times, war crimes, attempted murder, and strangely enough, operating a Garden with out a license. That one always made him smile.

A little loophole in Garden policy had negated any charge of treason he could have faced. Garden Code 10-1, his new best friend.

'_Garden is a nation all its own, its citizens loyal to no country except Garden and its interests.'_

Since Cid at one time acted as a surrogate father to him and still was headmaster at Balamb, any charge of treason on the part of Garden not been pressed. However, there were other rules that he had broken.

"I am ready to rule," the judge announced, finally finishing the long list. He set his gaze directly on Seifer and spoke to him as if he were the only man in the room, "This was a difficult decision for me to make. On the one hand you are still young and liable to make mistakes. On the other hand, those mistakes should not cost people their lives. You acted foolishly and without concern for your fellow human beings. Therefore, I sentence you to no more than twenty years in Balamb Maximum Security Prison. There you will receive counseling and be eligible for parole in two years." The judge banged his gavel and Seifer let out a relieved breath.

Seifer shook the hand of his overworked court appointed lawyers and thanked them for their service. A car was waiting to take him to the prison and the two guards assigned to escort him waited impatiently as he was congratulated on their small victory.

Twenty years was a lot, but Seifer knew he would get through it. At least he had the option of parole, a tiny favor considering that most did not expect it to be granted to him. They all probably thought that he'd cause trouble or try to escape on his first night.

The two guards ushered him out the private back entrance, away from the crowd at the front of the courthouse. The bright early morning sun blinded him and he had to squint his eyes to see. The early autumn Balamb air was crisp and fresh and he took in several greedy gulps before they could load him in the car.

"Wait."

Seifer and the two guards turned to see Quistis running out after them, taking the stairs carefully in her black sling-back shoes so that she wouldn't fall and get her sharp black skirt suit dirty.

"Can I talk to the prisoner please?" She asked the guards and they complied.

"Trepe, come to give me a goodbye kiss?" He teased her, his tone lacking the spiteful edge it usually had when he did so. After all, he did owe her, and lately he found that he held no hostility toward her. She had helped him out even after all the hell he had put her through and trying to kill her. She was alright. Of course she still had a stick up her ass the size of a redwood, but it didn't bother him so much.

"In your dreams," She teased back, blushing, "I just wanted to wish you luck."

"Don't need it, but thanks. For everything." He finished pointedly.

"I was my pleasure," She blushed even more, "If you ever feel like it, you're welcome to write to me." She offered.

"Thanks, I just might do that." She smiled up at him and he turned from her and back towards the guards.

"Seifer…," She called out hesitantly and he turned back, "umm…I'm glad that they decided on the option of parole. Just…prove them wrong, okay."

Her smile was brilliant, and the sun catching the gold in her hair made her glow. Seifer had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. Filing the image away for later study, he returned the smile with a confident smirk.

He would.

* * *

/Prologue. 

Did ya' like it? Huh, huh, didja? Review and let me know, chapter one is on the way.

GRRR... really screws up my formating. The version on my computer looks so nice but as soon as I transfer it over to my docs manager it gets completely F'ed up.


	2. Release

This probably goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: italicized texts are flashbacks or dream sequences. This story is going to have a couple. Just let me know if the timeline confuses you.

_FF8 does not belong to me and I make no profit from any of these tales. Any further archiving of my fiction is strictly prohibited unless cleared by me._

* * *

I

Release

* * *

**Nearly two years later – Balamb Maximum Security Prison**

The blue sky cast down on the prison pleasantly and out in the yard Seifer enjoyed the brightness. The sun was radiant, making even the grayest penitentiary walls seem almost pleasing. He had left the standard issue blue over shirt in his cell and stood in the center of the yard clad in the blue pants and white t-shirt spotting one of his fellow inmates on the bench press.

Dobson, as he liked to be called, was one of the only men in the joint that Seifer could stand for even a little while. He had told Quistis about him in one of the many letters that he had written to her, and even though he had never gotten a letter back, he still enjoyed the release.

He had a sneaking suspicion that the guards weren't even mailing his letters out; just another way to try and piss him off and get him to do something stupid. In the beginning, they had tried everything to get him to slip up; denied him food, clothing, and made him do the worst of the everyday prison labor. Every time he felt himself get even a little mad, he pictured Quistis that day outside the courthouse. Her whole body cast in the sunlight, from the bottom of her shoes to the top of her head. Like those posters that Dr. Kadowaki liked to hang in her office that said things like 'Teamwork' and 'Dedication,' it had become the inspirational poster hung in his mind's eye, with her words, 'Prove Them Wrong,' written in big block letters across the bottom.

So, he had taken it all, and had seriously pissed the guards off in the process. He went weeks with nothing more than bread and water, never once complaining. When they '_lost'_ his uniforms he made a pool out of how long he could wear the same one before it rotten off his body and while cleaning toilets he made sure to whistle a tune pleasantly.

Dobson's arms began to shake with the weight of the lift and Seifer watched him carefully, ready in case he dropped the heavy weight. Dobson's tattooed arms shook with the exertion and sweat beaded along the brunette's forehead. Letting out a sound that was half a scream and half a grunt, he pushed the bar up hastily and Seifer grabbed it to place it back along the rack.

"Let's see you beat that." He challenged Seifer. The two were of similar build and height, and Seifer eagerly stepped up to the challenges that the older man set forth. It felt good to have someone to compete with, someone who didn't want to knock your head off….speaking of which.

Seifer ducked as the empty bar from the next bench over narrowly missed his head. Standing up, he caught the metal pipe as it made another pass at his head. His attacker, a smaller, much crazier man than him, glared up at him as they both held the bar.

His attacker, Manny, was a lifer who didn't talk much. Most of the inmates didn't even know what he had done but they stayed away from him, nonetheless. He rarely spoke and was unpredictable, but seemed to enjoy trying to kill Seifer on a regular basis.

Seifer over powered him and shoved the bar straight at his face, satisfied when he heard the crunch of his nose breaking. A guard finally arrived on the scene and Seifer quickly dropped the bar and threw is hands up, non-threateningly. Luckily the guard was Inman, the one guard in the whole place that seemed to care about upholding the law.

"Hey! He attacked me." Seifer defended himself.

"I know. I saw the whole thing." The guard walked up to Manny, who was lying on the ground, whimpering quietly and holding his bloody nose, and hauled him up.

"Inman," Another guard shouted, "Tell Almasy that he's got a visitor."

* * *

"Prisoner Number 00011462, coming out." 

Seifer walked through the metal doors that separated the visitor's area from the jail cells, the two guards on his side escorting him to a private room. Upon entering, Seifer was shocked to see the last person in the world he wanted to see sitting at the small table in the center of the room. The guards led him to the chair opposite and secured his chains to it, allowing him little movement.

"Leave us," Squall ordered the two guards. They hesitated a little, unsure of the order to break protocol before they complied.

Seifer studied his long time rival. He had cut his long hair into a shorter style that only served to make him look more militaristic and cold. Like Seifer, the scar on his forehead had faded away a bit, leaving only a slight white scar across the brow. He sat rigidly in the chair, dressed in a professional looking black suit instead of the regulation SeeD uniform; he obviously wasn't working for them anymore.

After a moment of silence, which each one spent sizing the other up, Seifer smirked, "They told me my lawyer was here to see me."

"I'm not your lawyer." Leonhart stated blandly.

"No shit," Seifer rolled his eyes, "you and I both know that it's not like you to make such a lateral career move, so why the subterfuge?" Seifer leaned forward in his chair, the old green plastic material squeaking as he moved.

"We have a mission for you."

"A mission!" Seifer laughed. Squall didn't look amused in the least, "Okay, I'll bite. What kind of mission?"

"Espionage, mostly," Seifer marveled at how little emotion his rival was still able to express. It was as if he had been programmed with all the correct responses to his queries.

"And when do you picture me going on this mission, hmmm? In case you didn't notice, I'm kind of busy at the moment." Seifer gestured with his chained hands.

"Your parole hearing is in a couple of weeks, is it not?" The robot spoke again.

"It is," Seifer casually leaned back and propped his feet on the table, he sighed, "But they're never going to let me out. And even if I did get out, I'd still be under strict supervision."

"We'll take care of it. If you accept this mission, you'll be paroled."

Seifer was waiting for him to add, 'This message will self destruct in thirty seconds,' _'Oh how I wish.'_

"Who is this _'we'_?" Seifer gestured with his bound hands, "Who are you, or should I say 'I' going to be working for?"

"I'm with Esthar Security Council. We need you to infiltrate a radical terrorist group simply known as the Alliance of Three, or just A3. They study magic and the history of Sorceresses. Lately, all our intel suggests that they've been planning something big and are almost ready to unleash it."

Seifer tilted his head to the side and rocked the chair a few times on its back two legs. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved with another sorceress. But there was something nagging at his conscious that he couldn't quite place. Something telling him that this was important. Something urging him to go, go now. Just… some '_thing_.' With a sigh, he gave in, "Any idea what this big thing is?"

"None. That's what we want you to find out."

"Why me?" He asked the cold man opposite him. "I'm sure that there are hundreds of qualified agents under your command; why not send one of them?"

"Because you have a reputation when it comes to sorceresses. We believe that that reputation is just the thing that will get you through the door and at Warren's side."

"Warren?"

For the first time during the conversation, Squall altered his rigid posture to lean forward and flip open the tan folder that sat in front of him, Seifer followed his movements to see what he had. Pulling out an 8x10 photo and passing it across the table to Seifer, Squall continued, "_This_ is Warren Francois, the leader of A3," The blond studied the picture of a middle aged man getting out of a car wearing a grey suit that seemed to match his lightly graying hair and grey eyes. "Years ago he worked for the ESC. After Adel, he disappeared and resurfaced again a little while before the Ultimecia incident."

Seifer mentally rolled his eyes. It always seemed to come back to Ultimecia. "Okay," Seifer said hesitantly, "one more question." Leaning forward, Seifer stared at the former commander maliciously, "How do you know you can trust me?"

The Gunblader did not seem threatened, "Because, I believe that you have a personal interest in bringing this group down."

"Oh really," Seifer's voice had dropped dangerously, "And what would that be?"

The brunette looked away, unable to meet the blonde's gaze when he told him, "Because we believe that they had something to do with Quistis's death."

Seifer couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open in shock. _'Death?'_ "What?"

The former commander quickly tried to justify himself, "It happened a long time ago,"

"How long?" Seifer demanded.

"Two years, the night that you were sentenced." At least Squall had the decency to look ashamed.

"Two years!" Seifer stood up and would have begun to pace the room if not for the handcuffs, "Two years! Why the hell didn't anyone tell me?"

Squall did not seem surprised by his outburst, "We wanted to tell you, but your counselor said that the letters were helping you."

Seifer was enraged; what was he, six? "I don't need you or anyone else to coddle me. I should have been told."

"You're right." Squall said simply, "But you weren't, so get over it."

"Get over it! What a great idea Squall. I bet you got over it pretty easily, being that you never gave a flying fuck about her in the first place."

"Damn it Seifer, this isn't the time for your dramatics," Squall must have been extremely grateful that the table was bolted to the floor, for Seifer really wanted to fling it at him, "It wasn't my decision to withhold this from you and my feelings are not the issue."

A few seconds passed with Seifer trying to come to grips with his anger. Quistis was dead. How? Why?

He was so stupid. He should known. All that time he spent in custody, hers or someone else's, the longest she had gone without coming to see him had been two weeks. Why would that have changed?

Finally he sunk back into the chair, "What happened?"

"That night, she went back to the apartment that she shared with Selphie, but by the time Selphie returned, Quistis was nowhere to be found. We looked for days but there was still no sign of her, it was…indicated that there had been a struggle." Squall looked down, obviously not eager to go into the more gruesome details, "We still haven't found a body and there's been no sign of her since. We think that they had her killed and then dumped the body in the ocean."

"But why Quistis? Why was she a threat to them?"

"After she caught you, Quistis began working on the A3 case. The DIA had had confirmed sightings of A3 activity in the area. We think that she stumbled on to something that she wasn't supposed to."

Seifer's head was down as he slouched in the chair, studying his hands. "If I do this, I want to be pardoned. No probation, no more jail." Finally he looked up and determinedly met Squall's gaze, "Got it?"

"Of course," The other man nodded. "We figured you'd want nothing less."

"Okay then."

"I take it you accept then?"

"I do."

"Good." Standing up, he collected the photo from Seifer's side of the table and put it back in the folder, "After you are released, a taxi will pick you up outside the prison and take you to one of our safe houses, the driver will be ESC. After dark we'll sneak you on a cargo ship bound for Esthar. Your handler will be waiting for you at the docks and take you to another safe house where we will go over more of the specifics." Finished collecting his things, Squall walked to the door and knocked for the guard to let him out, "It goes without saying that you're not to tell anyone about this conversation."

"Of course."

The brunette nodded once and walked out the now open door.

* * *

_The red and blue police lights lit up the interior of the black sedan. The man in the back seat fidgeted. He had been sitting there for at least an hour and his knees were becoming sore, his legs were just too long for the small area behind the driver's seat. Impatiently, he tapped a finger on his knee, both hands cuffed in front of him._

_A large crowd had gathered around the hotel, drawn in by the flashing lights. EMT workers went around attending to the now conscious tenants. Several police officers and DIA agents were busy trying to calm the more outraged ones. He could hear their angered shouts from his seat in the car._

_Quistis and several other higher ups were busy in an impromptu pow-wow a few cars over, all of them deeply engrossed in the files splayed out on the hood of the car. He couldn't imagine what they could possibly be talking about._

_He studied his captor as she listened attentively to what a junior officer was telling her, nodding whenever it was appropriate. She wasn't wearing the standard black coat with DIA written in large white letters on the back nor did she display a badge of any kind. She was wearing a black pant suit with a red blouse and could have easily been mistaken for a typical executive had it not been for the holstered gun at her hip. Her hair was pulled back professionally, making her face look pinched and cold as usual. Obviously she had taken a higher position that allowed her the luxury of instant recognition._

_Finally it seemed as though the meeting was ending and Seifer gave a sigh of relief when Quistis began to walk towards the car. The driver's side door opened to allow Quistis entrance and Seifer watched as she studiously went through the routine of starting the car._

_Seat belt, check. Adjust side and rear view mirrors, check._

_He rolled his eyes at how automated it was. Finally, she started the engine, shifted to drive and slowly maneuvered the vehicle past the curious onlookers._

_After a few minutes of driving in silence, staring out the window into the deserted streets, Seifer decided he was bored. _

_"So," he began, "was it your idea to gas the hotel?"_

_"Yes." She answered, unsure of where he was going with this._

_Seifer nodded approvingly, "That's ballsey, Trepe. Real ballsey." _

_"I'm glad that you approve."_

_"Must've pissed off a bunch of civilians though, huh?"_

_"Some were…" she pursed her lips as she looked for the gentlest way to phrase it, "less than pleased."_

_"It's too bad you didn't do that **after** I arrived."_

_"Our lines got crossed. Frankly, we didn't think you'd get to the elevator before running. We thought you'd be astute enough to notice you were walking into a quiet hotel." She stopped the car at a red light and took the opportunity to meet his eyes in the rear view mirror, the corners of her mouth turned up, "But once again you proved us wrong."_

_Not willing to let her get in the last insult, Seifer leaned forward so that his face was a few inches from hers. He knew that his proximity would unnerve her, and he unconsciously registered the scent of her hair, fresh and slightly flowery._

_"I can't quite remember, is that something they taught you at Garden, or did you pick that up from the DIA? Because I didn't think the distinguished Dollet Intelligence Agency condoned the involvement of civilians in its operations."_

_Quistis Trepe didn't fidget. SeeDs didn't fidget and she was still a SeeD through and through. But knowing her all his life, Seifer could tell from her grip on the wheel and the angry furrow of her brow, that he had been right._

_Lowering his voice to his lowest octave that he knew women died for, he purred in her ear, "You broke protocol for me? I'm honored."_

_The light turned green and Quistis slammed on the gas, the momentum throwing her passenger back into his seat, smirk still firmly in place. _

_Proximity, male attention, and pointing out that she had done something wrong; check, check, and check. He should write a book, 'How to get under Quistis Trepe's Skin.' It'd sell out at Balamb. Maybe he'd work on that in prison._

_More awkward silence passed as Seifer stared out the window. Eventually he noticed her stealing glances at him through the side view mirror, a small smile on her face._

_"Mind telling me what's so funny?"_

_"I was just thinking about the last time you and I were in a car like this." She smiled at the memory, a real smile, the kind that spurned Trepies to write sonnets; rare and full of joy._

_"Oh," he recalled the memory and had to smile, too. They were both fifteen, nearly sixteen, and were on their first SeeD test. They had taken small teams out to the plains of Balamb to kill off some monsters that had wandered too close to some of the towns. On the way back, the third, much older member of their team, Draken Myers, had gotten a little too friendly with Quistis. A much smaller Seifer had managed to throw the bigger man out of the moving vehicle. It was the first of his many failed SeeD tests and he often wondered what his life might have been like if he had passed. "So you finally admit that if **was** funny?"_

_"No!" She yelled, still smiling, "that was a horrible thing to do."_

_"Then why are you laughing?"_

_"I just find the idea of **you** defending my honor funny. You've done much worse."_

_"But that's different."_

_"**How** is it different?"_

_"Because it's us. We grew up together."_

_"Yeah, but you didn't remember then, and besides, do you really think that gives you exclusive rights to torment me?"_

_"Well, yeah! Besides he was a hell of a lot older than you. It was gross." He stated, slumping back in his seat self-righteously, "Whatever happened to that guy, anyway?" He asked as an afterthought._

_"…He died," Quistis hesitated. "It happened when Galbadia Garden attacked Balamb Garden."_

_"Oh," he said somberly. For the first time, he wondered if they shared any memories that weren't bittersweet. He could tell she was thinking along the same lines from the way she rested her elbow on the door and propped her head on her fist. _

_Seifer remained quiet in the backseat, all too aware of the accusatory silence. He stared at his palms, stained with the rust from the fire escape and in the darkness, it almost looked like blood. He tried to wipe it on his jeans with little success. _

_He noticed that Quistis had turned on the radio, but the soft sounds of piano couldn't block out the giant elephant that had planted itself in the car. _

_"Seifer?" Quistis asked him softly._

_"Hmmm?" he looked up to see her worry her lip a bit before asking the question._

_"Why did you do it?"_

_He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. She'd never understand._

_"Seifer?" she asked again when he didn't answer for a long time, "You can speak freely in front of me. Tell me."_

_"I can't. I don't have the answers you want."_

_She didn't look pleased with his answer but graciously let it slide. They had turned off the main drag and were headed straight toward what looked like an average office building. Turning into the parking garage beside it, Quistis ran a small ID card through the reader and Seifer watched as the large metal gate blocking their path lifted. Pulling into a parking space on the first level, she turned around to face him._

_"Are you ready?"_

* * *

**Fifteen Minutes from the Coast of Esthar**

Seifer sat in the damp cargo hold, a free man for less than 48 hours. The ride to the safe house was short and uneventful, the agent disguised as a cab driver had said little to him and the agents at the house had said nothing to him besides the occasional order. Clearly they were not happy to be working with him.

The "Safe House" hadn't been much more than a suburban house in the middle of Balamb. The hours waiting for nightfall Seifer spent relaxing and enjoying the comforts of being only moderately caged. The agents had ordered out food for him and he had enjoyed a wonderfully greasy hamburger with fries smothered with ranch dressing. He then laid down for a long nap in a very comfortable bed, almost unused to a mattress that didn't have springs poking into in his ribs. Then he had his first genuinely hot shower in over two years and was surprised to find a bag of clothes laid out for him on the bed once he was done. Along with a 9mm hand gun, ammo, and personal grooming kit, it was stuffed full of the black slacks that he had always worn in his days back at Garden, a few t-shirts, long sleeve button up shirts, and of course several pairs of undergarment. It almost felt like he was starting over. Included among the many items, Seifer was surprised to find a very nice black leather trench coat.

The leather was soft and pliable and fit him as well as his old grey one had, if a little shorter. It was now wrapped tightly around his body, keeping him warm from the chilled air of the cargo hold. He had used the bag to prop himself comfortably against one of the many crates, so that he could rest during the long journey to Esthar.

The sound of metal grinding against metal signaled the end of the trip. The ship would dock soon and when it did, Seifer was ready to slip out unnoticed to meet his handler on the docks behind warehouse thirteen.

The cargo hold was a large room in the belly of the ship, with boxes and crates made of steel and wood stacked in every corner, providing Seifer with the cover he needed. Finding a secure, isolated area near the door, he waited for the crew members to arrive.

Voices could be heard coming down the hall and the first few workers filtered in. While they went about their business of opening the large door that led to the outside and starting up the forklifts, Seifer snuck over to a man he estimated to be about his size.

The man was too busy silently reading from his clip board to notice Seifer sneak around behind him. He acted quickly, grabbing him around the neck and clamping a hand over his mouth. Seifer squeezed his neck until he passed out. Dragging him back into an obscured area, he began to remove the man's green uniform and hat. Seifer took off his coat and pulled the one piece work suit over his black pants and blue shirt, pulling the hat down as far as he could to conceal his features.

Grabbing his bag and coat, he hurried to the forklift and hopped on, acting like he was working. Picking up a random crate, he drove the yellow monstrosity out the doors and onto the dock. Finding a hidden area in one of the warehouses, he ditched the vehicle and the suit, grabbed his bag and coat, and headed out into the moonlit night.

Finding warehouse thirteen was remarkably easy. All the warehouses on the docks were marked with big red numbers on the side, letting ships easily find the correct dock. Dock thirteen was quiet, far away from the bustle that was taking place around dock thirty-six, where he landed.

Seifer carefully approached, his boots clomping heavily along the wood, and looked for any signs of people. A man was standing underneath one of the streetlights on the pier, back to Seifer and obviously smoking. An older model black car was parked nearby, engine kept running. The man was tall, wearing a brown mid-length leather coat and blue baseball cap pulled over dark hair. He didn't turn around until Seifer was a few feet behind him, only then did Seifer recognize the man.

"Hey," He called out, pleased to see him jump. The man turned around just in time for his face to connect with Seifer's fist. He hit the deck hard, and Seifer stood over him, smirking and very pleased with himself.

Volney stayed down, rubbing his sore jaw. Seifer continued to stare angrily at his former employer. "Its good to see you too, pal. How ya been?"

"Cut the bullshit, Vol. I know you sold me out to the DIA."

The former bookie staggered up, "Of course I did. The whole mob infrastructure was collapsing. If I wanted to make a deal, I had to give them a bigger fish. You would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes, you big hypocrite."

Seifer nodded, he would have struck the same kind of deal too, except at the time there were no bigger fish than him. A sudden though struck him, "So now you work for ESC?"

"Hyne, no. Do I look like a federal agent to you?"

Seifer scoffed, "No, you can't even take a punch."

Volney ignored the remark, "I'm just an informant. Let's talk about this more in the car. It'll be safer."

Seifer walked to the passenger side and got in as Volney situated himself behind the wheel and began to drive out of the pier. "So tell me, how this is going to work?"

"Well, to everyone who's not ESC, DIA, or SeeD, it'll look like I smuggled you into Esthar based on our past history. Once you get accepted into the A3, I'll report back to the ESC everything that you tell me."

"So, I have to pretend to be your friend."

"More or less. Just try to keep from punching me anymore." Seifer rolled his eyes. "Am I swelling or anything?"

"No, you wuss."

"I'm not a wuss! And you didn't have to punch me as hard as you could."

"Believe me, if I punched you as hard as I could you'd be unconscious."

"That's comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be," Seifer turned in his seat to stare out the window.

The port of Esthar was located about forty five minutes from the city itself, connected by miles of well worn highway. A small town had sprung up around it to accommodate the sailors and truckers that swarmed the area. The town, Jassthar, had little in the way of economy, a small diner, a gas station, a convenience store, and a small hotel. The streets had yet to be paved and there wasn't much in the way of traffic signals. The only housing to be seen was a three square mile block of housing set aside for the permanent residence that worked in the town and at the docks.

The darkness stretched out before them as their two headlights cut through it. In the background, he could still hear Volney blathering on about his jaw and polite society, as if he knew what that was. Seifer tuned him out. All his attention was fixed on the lights in the distance, rising above the dark horizon like an early dawn.

It had only been three years since the fall of Esthar's borders and already they had accumulated vast amounts of trade with the rest of the world. Boosting their stagnant economy enough to cover the repairs they needed. Not nearly enough to cover their aesthetic tastes but enough to buy the concrete and steel to build new roads and sky scrapers. Yup, it was out with the new and in with the old for Esthar.

As the vehicle steadily approached, he could begin to distinguish between the buildings in the skyline, a mixture of traditional brick and concrete spotted by the old blues glass and heavy plastics.

Two spotlights flashed in the sky, a sure sign that a premier was taking place at the Fitch House, Esthar's largest theater. The Aiden Rigg Oil building, the nation's largest oil company, was easily one of the tallest in sight. Most of its windows were dark, only a few lit up to accommodate the still hard working executives.

The presidential palace was still visible, lit up like a beacon, along with a few of its old multi-layered skyways.

Blue, green, turquoise, and white lights sat a safe distance away from the rest of the city, Esthar's very own Garden. He found himself wondering if any of B. Garden's 'heroes' resided there.

He knew that a few had moved on, taking positions working for the governments of other nations. One couldn't stay a SeeD forever after all.

That messenger girl, Selphie, had apparently gone with Quistis to the DIA and puberty boy had obviously taken up with Esthar. All of them using the tools Garden had given them to do good, while he had used them as he always had; to bully, hurt, and elude punishment.

He signed. After all those years of working his own mission, he was finally being asked to do one, by the ESC, no less. Even though he did have a personal interest in the case, it still felt nice to be asked.

"Hits you where you live, don't it?"

Half-lidded eyes shot open at the voice, catching a glimpse of blond in the side view mirror.

_'Quistis?'_

As he turned around to check the back seat, he driver seemed oblivious to the action of his passenger.

No one was there. Certainly not a long dead girl that he had once…

Seifer rubbed his eyes. Either he had been dreaming or he was seeing things.

It wouldn't be the first time.

* * *

"All I'm saying is that a simple hello could have worked just fine." Seifer was becoming aggravated. They had spent the entire car ride arguing. Any more of this and he was going to snap his neck. 

Oblivious to his passenger's irritated state, Volney continued his tirade as he pulled the black vehicle into a parking garage, "I mean, you didn't even threaten me, you just jumped straight to the violence."

They both got out of the parked car and Seifer stared at the man over the top of it. "I have a gun you know."

Shots rang out through the empty corridors of the garage and the two men reacted quickly, ducking back into the car.

"Then I think you should use it!" Volney screamed over the sound of gunfire and shattering glass, trying to cover his head.

Seifer pulled the small 9mm from his bag in the back, wishing for Hyperion. Checking the clip and the chamber, he glanced through the now shattered, rearview windshield. He could see three men spread apart, the two on the sides armed with semi- automatic weapons, the one in the middle, the tallest and biggest of the bunch, held a rifle in both hands.

Seifer took aim and fired at the one farthest to his right, hitting him twice in the chest. The two others immediately took cover, Seifer's shots bouncing off the pillars and cars as he tried to follow them.

He broke left from the passenger's side, and took cover behind the next car over, a rain of gunfire blasting out the windows and setting off the shrill shrieking of car alarms. The firing paused and he heard the tell tale click of a clip being changed. Using his chance, he sprung up from his crouched position and fired a few more shots at the nearest attacker, the man with the rifle. He went down, a bullet hitting him in the thigh. Crouching back down as semi-auto man re-appeared, Seifer knew that he didn't have many shots left.

_'Its time to get creative.'_

"Volney!" He called to the man, still hidden across the seat of the car. Volney looked up, "Are you armed?" the man seemed to be too overcome by fear to answer, and just crawled to the glove compartment. Opening it, he tossed out a small switchblade to Seifer.

_'That'll have to do.'_

Grabbing the small weapon, he tossed his gun to Volney, "Cover me," and got ready to run.

The brunette grabbed the gun and fired, not aiming at anything in particular, but it was enough to drive them back behind their pillars. Seifer crouched and ran around the cars, getting a few rows behind them before he heard the click of Volney's empty gun.

The shooting resumed and Seifer snuck around behind the one still standing assailant. The man didn't hear him approach until Seifer was a few steps behind him, his boots crunching on broken glass. The man turned and with one hand, Seifer grabbed the gun by the barrel, pointing it away before it went off a point blank range. Not quick enough, Seifer let out a cry as the bullet deeply grazed his left upper arm, and staggered back a step. The man came at him with a fist to the stomach, and Seifer gasped as the air was nearly knocked out of his lungs.

The blow doubled him up and he was lucky to be able to regain his balance in time to dodge his attacker's right fist. Ducking under the blow, he used his attacker's momentum to get behind him and stab the knife into his side, the blade scraping bone as it pierced his lung.

He didn't have time to gain his breath before the big guy had recovered from the pain of his wound and tackled him from the side. They crashed to the dirty concrete floor, rolling until they separated. They sprung up, facing each other, Seifer's back to the wall. He threw a right, but the man caught his fist, twisted it behind his head and spun him around, his back to his chest and kneed him in the side.

Biggy grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing Seifer forward, quickly, attempting to throw him to the wall. Seifer ran with it, gaining enough momentum to run halfway up the wall, turn and launch his foot straight to the man's temple. He heard the bone crunch and he went down, hard. Seifer looked around to see Volney standing in front of him, face twisted in awe, tire iron in hand.

Seifer had to admit, that was pretty bad ass.

"Friends of yours?" He asked Volney.

"I've never seen them." Dropping the tire iron, he walked to the body at Seifer's feet. Examining it he stated, "This guy works for Dax though. One of the local gangs around town." He looked up to Seifer, "Someone knows you're here."

"How? And more importantly, why would they care?"

"I've got a theory on that. But first we should head up to my place. I know someone who can help us clean up this mess, and we should probably patch up your arm."

Seifer looked to the injured appendage, really feeling the pain now and wishing he was junctioned. "Okay, let's go."

Volney walked out to the street with Seifer following him.

He could see that they weren't exactly in the best part of town. Since the Lunar Cry, the beautifully sterile city of Esthar had become a hot bed of illegal activity and poverty, at least in the places that the reconstruction effort hadn't been to yet. This place was one of them, the resident's garage they had parked in was only a few stories high, the front was covered in graffiti and surrounded by equally crappy apartment buildings.

The two men walked to the one on the left and Seifer watch as Volney opened the front door. Stepping over the man passed out on the stoop, they went inside. The walls were stained from obvious water damage and several mailboxes in the lobby had been bashed open. An elevator to one side hung half open with an out of order sign taped to it. As they climbed the stairs, Seifer was aware of the ominous creaking.

"You actually live here?" Oh how the mighty had fallen. Seifer remembered that while working for the man back in Dollet, he had owned his own billiards hall and had lived in the very nice upstairs apartment.

"Yeah, and you too, for the moment. Warren insists that all his employees live on the complex, so until we get you in, you'll be shacking up with me."

As they approached the second floor, Volney walked to one of the doors and unlocked it. Opening the door and flipping on a light, he let out a short, high pitched yelp. Seifer peered over his shoulder to see Squall sitting causally in one of the armchairs facing the door.

"Assistant Director, Its good to see you," Volney yammered, "I thought we weren't meeting until tomorrow."

"Get in here and close the door, Ayers," Squall sighed impatiently, "and while you're at it, why not hang out a banner and let everybody know I'm here."

Seifer gave him a small push and walked all the way in the room. Squall stood.

"Did you have some trouble?" The former commander asked, looking to the blood dripping from the arm of his now ruined coat.

"Yeah," The blond said, following his gaze. He'd need to have that fixed. "We had a little party in the parking garage. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I'll send a team to clean up. I see you got the coat."

"Yeah, it was very sweet of you guys. I didn't know you cared." He said sarcastically.

"I had nothing to do with it. Quistis bought it for you at a flee market. She told Rinoa that she wanted to give it to you when you got out."

Seifer didn't know what to say. Thank you didn't seem like the right word to say, especially not to him, so he just settled for a gracious nod and a subject change. "Mind telling me why you're here."

"The time table has been moved up. Warren's plan seems to be going into its final stages sooner than we expected. We need to get you in there now."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, gents," Volney spoke up, moving toward the card table set up in the corner of the room and pouring himself a drink, "but the soonest I can get him in is three days from now. Anybody want a drink?" He offered and they both declined, "My plan was to get Seifer into the big audition that Warren was holding to look for new help. Apparently, he needs its. But that's not happening for another forty eight hours."

"What kind of audition?" Seifer asked.

"I'm not sure. It's not spinning dinnerware that's for sure." He took a sip of his drink and walked back towards the two men, "He'll probably turn it into some kind of competition, too. We won't find out until the first meeting."

"Competition? So that's what those guys were." Seifer concluded.

"You never said there'd be others." Squall said angrily, crossing his arms and taking a step towards the other brunette.

"I thought you said he could handle it?" Volney faced him.

"I can handle it." Seifer tried to but in.

"That's not the point. You never said anything about an audition or other people." Squall was right in his face now, "What if he doesn't succeed."

"I'm standing right here!"

"He'll be fine. He's got the full power of the ESC and DIA backing him."

"It doesn't work like that."

Seifer rolled his eyes. He never thought that he'd see the day he'd have to break up a fight between two people he could hardly stand, especially when one of the men wouldn't last three seconds, but he'd be damned if he was going to sit here another minute listening to them talk about him like he wasn't even in the room. Squeezing in between the two brunette's Seifer pushed them apart.

"Hey that's enough." The two men continued to glare at each other. Seifer couldn't understand why they were fighting. This was a hurdle, sure, but not a big one. "This is not that big a deal. Unless there's something you'd like to tell us Leonhart?"

The commander looked away but didn't appear to be any less mad. "Last night, there was another kidnapping." The Assistant Director sat back in the chair, and for the first time Seifer noticed how tired he looked. He didn't notice at first, but the man's suit was wrinkled and his eyes were red, as if he hadn't slept at all the night before.

He sighed and sat on the couch next to the wall. There was only one thing, strike that person, in the world that could cause him so much worry. "They took Rinoa didn't they?"

"Yeah," he even sounded tired. "I'm not sure what they want, but a Sorceress worshipping cult kidnapping one of the most powerful sorceresses alive can't be good."

"What happened?"

"She went out grocery shopping yesterday morning. When she didn't come home that night I went out looking for her. I found her car still in the grocery store parking lot but she was no where to be found."

"How do you know the A3 had something to do with it?" Volney had walked back to the makeshift bar and began pouring them drinks, thinking that they now needed them.

"I had the store manager show me their security tapes. They caught her leaving the store. They used a tranq gun to take her out from a distance then load her in the back of a van. I identified one of the men as Marius Hutchinson, Warren's number two."

"Well, they're obviously not worried about being caught." Seifer accepted the drink that Volney handed him, the liquor burning down his throat pleasantly when he took a sip.

"No, they're really not," Squall took a drink from his glass, "Probably because in the two or more years that we've been trying to bring them down, we have yet to find out where they are hiding."

"Really," Volney had sat down next to Seifer on the couch.

"Traffic cameras tracked the van to the outskirts of town but we were unable to follow them into the desert. We tried to use satellite imagery but by the time we could reposition one over Esthar they were long gone."

"What about thermal imagery?" Seifer suggested.

"We tried, but if they were hiding in the mountains, we wouldn't be able to see past the rock." Swallowing the rest of his drink in one gulp, Squall set the glass on the table and got up to leave. "That's why it's so important for you to get in. You're mission is no longer to just collect info, but also to get Rinoa out. After your first meeting with Warren, drop the audition details in the trash outside the building and I'll make contact. We'll work out the details of your mission and then we can establish a more permanent protocol for getting in touch."

Squall's hand was on the doorknob when Seifer had the urge to call out to him, "Squall," Seifer wanted to say something like, "Don't worry," or "I know she's okay," but the sentiment died on his lips. What did he care about Leonhart's feelings? He didn't, he just…. "You wouldn't happen to have a potion on you?" he finished lamely, gesturing to his arm. What was the matter with him?

Squall only briefly glanced back before opening the door and walking out.

"Every time I meet that guy he just gets friendlier and friendlier," Volney shook his head and drank from his glass.

Seifer resisted the urge to smack him and turned his attention to Volney, "Tell me about the meeting."

"…Well, technically, we're not even invited, yet."

"Why not?"

"Try to understand," Volney rushed to explain, "This whole thing is very elite, and as highly as I regard myself, I'm not quite up to the level Warren is expecting."

"Okay…So how do you intend to make the meeting?"

"It's simple really. That guy mentioned earlier, Marius, has a lot of pull with Warren, and I can get close to him."

"How," Seifer inquired.

"I've got a little arrangement set up at a club, district 5," He said proudly, "I trade info with one of the bar tenders there, and he told me, that a high powered group have recently been meeting in the back room for a little after hours card game. These guys are serious players, drug dealer, assassins, and Marius is one of them. Tomorrow night, we go there, get a spot at the table and pique Marius curiosity, he runs off to Warren, and presto, two tickets to the hottest show in town."

Seifer rolled his eyes, where was his tough talk back in the parking garage? "Sounds interesting," He said sounding bored, "But I'm getting tired, so where's my bed?" He asked him.

"You're sitting on it."

* * *

/Chapter One 

Well, how did you like my fight scene? I'm going to try to have a little action in each chapter and I spent a lot of time trying to make this one pretty cool.

Oh, and, I don't know guns. I'm assuming that a 9mm is a small handgun. Correct me if I'm wrong.

As always, read and review.


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